


Take a Spin (With Me)

by cx_shhhh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Grantaire wears florals and looks fucking cute in them, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Other, Spin the Bottle, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, enby R, mutual simping, there's also a fool who misgenders R, they are moving very quickly but it's okay because Enj is whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cx_shhhh/pseuds/cx_shhhh
Summary: Enjolras hates parties, especially when immature games are involved, but he can forgive this one when Grantaire shows up.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	Take a Spin (With Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeopleAreScary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleAreScary/gifts).



> For [Malin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleAreScary) who impatiently waited for me to write this and then impatiently waited for me to upload it.
> 
> Warnings: offensive language

Quite frankly, Enjolras has no idea what all these people are doing in his apartment. He was expecting a friendly gathering instead of, in Courfeyrac’s words, “a whole fucking party”. Granted, there are not as many people as Enjolras would have expected for a party, but there are definitely more than his closest circle of friends.

“Enjolras!”

And that would be Courfeyrac. Who happens to be bringing an angel over for him to meet.

“Enj, this is Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire,” he says, gesturing to each of them in turn. “I managed to kidnap them from the others for a moment.”

Pushing off the wall he was leaning against, Enjolras gives them a smile and introduces himself and his pronouns before asking for theirs, suddenly finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from Grantaire. This ambiguously gendered person is wearing a dress printed with tiny flowers and kittens, upon further inspection, that floats around their bare legs. Heels boost them up enough that Enjolras doesn’t have to sprain his neck to meet their eyes.

“They/them please,” Grantaire answers, fiddling with a lock of long and curly hair, and Enjolras gets distracted by their nimble fingers for a moment before meeting those beautiful blue eyes again.

“Of course,” he replies and gets a bright smile in return. Enjolras feels his breath catch as the smile lights up Grantaire’s entire face.

After making a bit of nonsensical small talk and learning about Grantaire’s two kittens that they love very much, Enjolras watches in a bit of dismay as Grantaire flounces off to Jehan, who eagerly starts braiding their hair with flowers. He is left staring after a swish of that pretty green dress and a clatter of stilettos.

“Well clearly someone made an impression,” Combeferre says, causing him to startle.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Nope. Just me. Did you scare them off with your intimidating face, or what?” he asks. “Or was it because you started talking about corrupt governments?”

Enjolras grumbles, “Am I not allowed to just talk to someone for the sake of it?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, Monsieur The-World-Needs-Change.”

“... I resent that.”

“I only speak facts,” Combeferre says. “And it’s a well known fact that you don’t stare after anyone unless they offended you, but then I suppose it’s more of a righteous glare.”

“Meh,” is Enjolras’s very weak reply. It’s like Grantaire has taken his brain-cells hostage and is slowly killing them off with every laugh and toss of their head whenever Joly says something funny or Bossuet trips over himself.

From the hours of late to even later, Enjolras occupies himself with coming up with another way to approach them because Combeferre is too busy teasing him and Courfeyrac is too busy teasing Combeferre for teasing him. God, what great friends he has. Every time he turns to look at Grantaire, they are already staring back at him, and when their eyes meet, Grantaire quickly ducks their head, but not before Enjolras can see the slight blush on their fair cheeks. He makes up his mind and decides that he just really wants to talk to them to get to know this intriguing individual better.

“Hi, I hope you won’t mind if I borrow Grantaire for a sec,” he announces when he finally musters up the courage to interrupt the clearly delightful conversation they’re having. Grantaire looks up at him with wide eyes, evidently surprised, and nods. Enjolras doesn’t notice Joly’s and Bossuet’s identical grins as he’s too busy dragging them away.

As it turns out, Grantaire is so much more than a gorgeous face. They are a ridiculously smart conversationalist who gestures by waving their hands around excitedly when Enjolras brings up the topic of politics. If that isn’t enough to make him a little more infatuated, nothing will ever be. He watches Grantaire’s lips, pink and luscious, move as they speak about the injustices of the world and how nothing will ever help, and he has to recalibrate a little after noticing himself nod along as if he’s _agreeing_.

“Ah, so you agree that the world is shit?” Grantaire asks, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Wha- no! Well, yes. Kinda? Enjolras sputters before continuing, “It’s shitty, sure, but if we try hard enough, we can definitely be the change we want to see.”

Great. Now he sounds like an inspirational reusable water bottle sticker.

Grantaire raises a plucked eyebrow incredulously and pats his shoulder, saying, “Well, I have faith in you.”

“Was that sarcastic?”

“It can be if you want it to be,” they shrug before walking away, and Enjolras really wants to chase after them, to take a dainty wrist in his hand to ask if they meant what they said.

He doesn’t do that. A pity, really.

Sometime before midnight, Enjolras ushers a bunch of people out, mostly those who were slurring their speech and complete strangers he cannot trust not to vomit all over the place. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are all huddled on the couch, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Grantaire may be somewhere in that pile. They can stay.

When the apartment is finally cleared of everyone but their small group, Courfeyrac plucks the bottle out of Grantaire’s hand, causing them to pout adorably, drains the rest of its contents, and places it on the floor.

“Sit around, sit around. We’re going to mentally de-age ourselves and play Spin the Bottle just because,” he says. “Joly, you too. None of us are contagious… I think. I know for a fact that Enjolras could never get mono because he doesn’t get around-”

“Hey!” he protests, but Courfeyrac is right. “Besides, I didn’t even consent to play, y’know.”

That argument dies on his tongue when Grantaire sits down next to him on the carpet, arranging their skirt around their thighs and tucking their bare feet under them. Their shoes are nowhere to be seen, probably kicked off in favor of not breaking an ankle.

“We’re all sober right?” Enjolras asks. “Or at least sober enough to consent?”

A round of affirmatives.

“Woohoo!” Courfeyrac cheers and spins first. “Oh yeah, kisses on hands and cheeks are allowed, obviously, because I’m not an asshole. It’s just the victim who doesn’t get to choose, so you probably still think I’m an asshole. Whoops.”

Luckily enough, the bottle lands on Combeferre, so Courfeyrac pulls his boyfriend down for a kiss that would turn less appropriate if Combeferre did not stop it before that could happen. They’re adults after all.

Enjolras zones out for most of the game, only laughing along when Joly screeches in fear whenever someone swoops toward zir lips before they just drop the kiss on zir hand instead. He always zones back in when the bottle lands on himself, graciously accepting kisses on his cheeks. Nobody dares to properly kiss him, which he doesn’t mind at all. He also pays attention when the bottle lands on Grantaire, which is more often than Enjolras would like.

Jehan brushes gentle kisses on their hands. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta all give their cheeks fond pecks. Éponine and Cosette plant chaste kisses on their lips while Marius kisses their nose. Even Combeferre kisses them while Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Feuilly all jump at the opportunity to kiss Grantaire firmly until they’re reeling at the sheer force, and Enjolras feels extremely betrayed by his best friends. It doesn’t help that they have to spin the bottle in return and that the bottle never seems to land on him.

Enjolras remains disgruntled, especially when he turns his head to the side, only to get an eyeful of Grantaire’s blushing face and swollen lips. Suddenly, all thoughts about shaking his friends by the shoulders dissipate like smoke. He is so distracted by the way Grantaire continues to touch their lips and finger the hem of their dress, brushing a thumb over the occasional kitten there, that he doesn’t even notice that the next spin landed on him.

“Huh? Oh,” Enjolras mutters when Feuilly’s lips leave his cheek. “Thanks.”

He looks back at Grantaire after giving his friend a smile, but they had turned away. He suddenly misses the sight of happily flushed cheeks, so instead, he admires their intricate braid and tries counting the flowers woven into it.

_Look at me, look at me, look at me_ , Enjolras chants in his head, feeling utterly stupid and like the most pathetic mess. He gives the bottle a good spin, praying to the nonexistent deities above that it may land just a smidge to the left of him. He doesn’t even dare to look at the bottle, fearing that staring at it may counter what he is hoping for.

Everyone else can only watch in amusement as Enjolras finally takes a peek at it and nearly falls over in relief. Grantaire is still looking off into the distance somewhere, so he has to clear his throat to get their attention back. Well, that is just yet another awkward thing he has to overcome. For the first time ever, Enjolras hates that he has an audience.

“R,” he croaks. Thankfully, that is more than enough to get them to look back at him.

“Yes?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras nods to the floor. “Oh! Well, take your pick.”

Enjolras knows what he wants. He’s been looking at their lips for the better part of this evening, from when Grantaire was talking to him to when they were being kissed within an inch of their life. In fact, his eyes dart down without his permission, and Grantaire absently sweeps their tongue over their bottom lip.

It is not at a party that Enjolras kisses Grantaire for the first time.

Instead, he leans down and presses his lips tenderly to their cheek, so tauntingly close to the corner of their mouth. His heart pounds faster when Grantaire’s eyelids fall shut, hiding those intelligent blue eyes from view. He could stay like this forever, touching their soft cheek with his lips, but that would look both strange and more than a little obsessive.

Grantaire exhales shakily, sounding much more affected by a mere kiss on the cheek than they did after so many of their friends attacked their lips. Their hand trembles as they take the bottle, and Enjolras has to suppress every urge to just take that hand in his own and kiss it, never letting go. He regrets his decision to let Grantaire spin the bottle until the bottle lands on him.

It is not at a party that Enjolras kisses Grantaire for the first time, but it is at a party that Grantaire kisses Enjolras for the first time, and he kisses back.

So eagerly that Enjolras would tease them if he was not in the same exact boat, Grantaire throws their arms around his neck and drags him into a kiss that almost seems desperate, squeezing their eyes shut. Their lips are as soft and pillowy as they look, and Enjolras wants to keep his eyes open to look at them from this perspective. Everyone else gasps in shock and the slightest bit of awe.

Not wanting this moment to be over when Grantaire begins to pull away, Enjolras presses his lips more firmly against theirs, causing them to release a small whimper. He takes them by the waist, only letting himself marvel at the feeling of soft fabric and a slim body under his hands for a moment, and moves them into his lap.

Enjolras loses track of how long they kiss, opening his eyes to find that everyone else has left to give them some privacy. Grantaire somehow looks even more beautiful, blue eyes glazed and lips glossy, as they continue to clutch his shoulders like they are afraid he will disappear, leaning forward until their cheek is squished against his chest.

“It’s been, what, six hours max since we met?” they say, voice muffled. Enjolras rubs their back with one hand and cradles their head in the other.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m very surprised at myself too,” he replies. “I… laid eyes on you for the first time and couldn’t stop. Oh, angel, must you hold me captive like this?”

Grantaire snorts, “He’s a sap too. I really know how to pick ‘em.”

They bury their face back against his chest, but not before tilting their face up for a kiss. Enjolras obliges, as he feels like he will for anything Grantaire requests. Okay, not anything. Nearly anything. If they want Enjolras to admit that they’re right in the arguments they will surely have in the future, he will.

“So… does that make us a couple?” he wonders outloud, and Grantaire shrugs.

“We haven’t even gone out on a date yet. We literally skipped over so many steps in proper courtship,” they say.

“Well, I happen to think that proper courtship is both heteronormative and overrated. That being said, what are your interests?” Enjolras asks, genuinely curious. There is no way someone like Grantaire could possibly be anything but boring.

They blush and reply, “I like to paint and sew and all sorts of little crafty things. Not many store-bought clothes really fit me, so I like making my own. Besides, then I can embroider cute designs on them.”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow. To the Louvre,” Enjolras blurts out, and Grantaire grins up at him.

“That just happens to be one of my favorite places.”

Grantaire ends up spending the night, wrapped up in one of Enjolras’s sweaters and looking absolutely adorable in it. The hem falls to mid-thigh, and the sleeves flop past their fingertips. When Enjolras demands to cuddle them, they curl up to him, fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

The next morning, Enjolras wakes up to the light floral scent of Grantaire’s hair and decides to fall back asleep for once, hugging them closer.

The next time he wakes up, the bed next to him is empty, so he stumbles out, just to be greeted with the sight of Grantaire in that oversized red sweater and bending over to pull a tray of muffins out of the oven. Any thoughts floating around in Enjolras’s brain immediately screech to a halt. Did they mention doing yoga or ballet or something? Because there is no damn way anybody is able to bend over like that without falling flat on their face otherwise. _Gah._

“Good morning,” Enjolras says instead of ogling Grantaire.

“It will be,” they reply.

Enjolras almost drops to one knee and proposes marriage at the first bite of muffin while Grantaire laughs at the expression on his face. And then he nearly passes out when they swipe a stray blob of chocolate off of his upper lip and stick their finger in their own mouth.

“Mmm,” Grantaire hums before noticing Enjolras’s intense stare and slowly turning red under his blue gaze. Still blushing, they smile a little coyly and lean forward to give him a small kiss. 

In return, Enjolras takes one of their hands and presses his lips to their palm reverently. Grantaire looks up at him with shining eyes and folds their fingers over the kiss, snaking an arm around his neck for leverage to pull him down and seal their lips together firmly.

“I live with Jehan, so if you’ll give me a moment to change,” Grantaire says when they break apart.

“How have I never seen you before if you live with them?” Enjolras asks in an unbelieving tone. “I’m either that unobservant, or you’re actually a mythical creature that I’m dreaming up.”

“I promise I’m not. You’re not unobservant either,” they reply, playing with a lock of his blond hair. “Jehan told me all about you and your social justice club, and I thought that there was no way someone could possibly be both so stupid and brave at the same time, so I just had to see you with my own eyes.”

“And?” Enjolras prompts.

“Don’t fish for compliments. That’s not attractive,” Grantaire humphs before going back to running slender fingers up his cheek. “I really liked what I saw. Not just the whole handsome godly thing you have going on, but the fact that you speak with a fire I’ve never seen before.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you not notice the stuttering mess I was just from being in your presence and hearing _you_ speak?”

“Oh, that was just cute.”

Enjolras groans and slumps down, leaning his forehead against Grantaire’s shoulder and dropping a tiny kiss into the fabric of his own sweater covering it.

It’s in the afternoon when he pulls on black clothes appropriate to be seen in public and nearly chokes on his own spit when Grantaire comes out of their apartment in a floral print top that exposes creamy shoulders and fitted jeans. Clearly prepared to do a lot more walking, they wear sensible pink loafers instead of the heels from last night. Enjolras mourns the loss of them.

“I’m just going to die over and over again, am I?” he bemoans, taking their hand.

“You’ll get used to it and probably even bored of me at some point,” Grantaire jokes.

“ _Never_ ,” he replies emphatically. “Let’s go. We have a museum to explore.”

Enjolras can only stare, absolutely smitten, as Grantaire gestures excitedly at each piece of artwork, talking about brushstrokes and canvases. He isn’t exactly sure how much information he is actually absorbing in favor of focusing on the way their red mouth moves, forming each word carefully.

Their date goes swimmingly until a stranger just _has_ to tell Grantaire that “men shouldn’t wear feminine clothing” after glaring at their clasped hands because society is truly all sorts of fucked up, and Enjolras nearly bursts a blood vessel in anger. It dissipates enough to calm him down when Grantaire puts a hand on his shoulder, something in their eyes telling him that they’ve got it covered.

“It’s rather rude of you to approach a couple and interrupt their date before misgendering not only my clothing but also myself and overall looking like a fool. Given that I’m the one wearing the clothes, I get to decide what’s feminine or masculine, no? I’m curious, exactly how obsessed with the binary do you have to be to give _clothes_ a gender, like seriously? That’s so lame,” they say in a faux sweet voice and then shimmy their shoulder before placing a hand on their hip. “Don’t knock skirts and dresses until you try it… although I doubt that even those would look good on you. You only wish you could pull this outfit off as well as I can, or maybe you think my ass looks so fabulous in skinny jeans that you want a piece of me.”

Grantaire blows the stranger a kiss and smiles, but their eyes are as cold as ice. They flip their curly hair over their shoulder, hook an arm through Enjolras’s, and pull him away from the spectators who have gathered. On the way out, Grantaire winks at the security guard in the corner with her phone out and gets a discreet grin in return. Enjolras sees a few more people filming them, so he’s pretty sure someone will post a video of that on the Internet. Mostly, he’s proud.

“Don’t worry. I’m all yours,” Grantaire says when they’re alone in an empty gallery. “I only date polite and chivalrous people who ask me for my pronouns right after they ask me for my name.”

Enjolras, feeling emotional and stupid and quickly falling more and more in love, replies, “You’re truly a masterpiece and deserve to be pinned to the wall.”

Grantaire stares at him, dumbstruck, and breathes, “Oh my fucking God, you’re actually perfect. Kiss me.”

Because he’s just so whipped, and his brain has been so thoroughly jumbled just by being in their presence, Enjolras does exactly that in the middle of the Louvre. Grantaire doesn’t get pinned to any walls, however, until they get back to the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my Tumblr [here](http://cx-shhhh.tumblr.com/)! I post a lot of memes and stuff, so maybe something will catch your interest. Feel free to send me an ask or rant about how adorable Grantaire is.
> 
> In addition, join the [hoes for enjolras](https://discord.com/invite/vERrqvA) server to talk or something.


End file.
